March 21, 2020 (In the year of the Trump Virus)

March 21, 2020 (In the year of the Trump Virus)

Usually, at dusk, and for the last few days, there have been teenage lovers/friends meeting up at the front of our home, near a vacant lot.  There is a sense of urgency in their body communication.  Sometimes it is male teenagers, or females together as well.  Late last night, I heard voices from my office at home and looked outside the window to see five young guys smoking, talking, and standing very close together.  The 65-year old man that is me wanted to yell out, "Hey, 6 feet apart guys."  I didn't do that, because it would have been absurd to them.  More likely, they would ignore me.  They do know the drill.  That is why they are meeting there at 1:00 in the morning, away from prying eyes and ears.  I went to bed with their distant voices in the background as I fell asleep.

This is the fifth day of being isolated from everyone, and it's not as bad as one thinks.  I have my wife here and a case of Charles Shaw wine, which is quickly disappearing.  We're doing Amazon Prime at the moment, because we are getting it free, due to trial use.  We buy things at bulk on Amazon as well as at various online markets.  We originally purchased tons of toilet paper due to the substantial discount.  The thing is before the virus hit Los Angeles in such a manner, we ordered toilet paper, but instead, we got 64 rolls of paper towels.  So, like many other citizens of Los Angeles, we do hunt for toilet paper.  As of now, we have three rolls, and we consider ourselves lucky. -Tosh Berman

Saturday, April 27, 2019

I took an LYFT to Old Town Pasadena to have lunch with two gentlemen from the Norton Simon Museum.   We agreed to meet at an Indian restaurant called 'All India Cafe' on South Fair Oaks Avenue.  I have never been there, and it is very much a neighborhood joint in Pasadena.  Although they have a brother/sister cafe in Glendale (on Brand), it seems family owned with a tightly knitted group of employees there.   I had spinach mixed in with bite-size potatoes and rice on the side.  I never know what to do in an Indian restaurant.  I feel each dish is meant to be shared, but we all ordered separate dishes.  Still, there is something enjoyable about Indian cuisine that is comforting.  I think the mixture of potato and spinach is a perfect combination and somewhat organic relationship to me.   On the other hand, I was concerned about having rice with potato which is delicious, but is that too much starch for one's diet or need?  

They brought copies of my book TOSH to sign for the stock in their book/gift store.  If I'm not mistaken, I think I have my book in all museum shops in Los Angeles.   It was a delightful way to spend the early afternoon.  The weather was perfect, in that it was sunny, but not the sun of hot direct rays, but more of a lightness that bathes one's soul.   Also, the company was excellent.  I enjoy spending time with people who work in museums or galleries.  I have no interest in the so-called 'art world' when it is displayed as a business, but when it concerns 'culture,' I find that fascinating. 

When I left the cafe, I immediately got on the bus that takes me to Hollywood and Vine.   The trip, if the traffic is not too heavy, takes about 40 minutes.  Which is good, because it gives me time to read this fascinating book by Marjorie Muir Worthington called "The Strange World of Willie Seabrook."    I know nothing of the authors but was curious after reading about this book on the Spurl Editions website.  Seabrook was a travel writer, adventurer, and I suspect a Sadistic soul.  He committed suicide in the 1960s, but this memoir by his ex-wife is a fascinating read so far.  It's a hard book to put down.   I found a copy of the book in the Los Angeles Main Library, but I plan to purchase the Spurl Edition as soon as possible. I want to have it for my library.  

As usual, I went to Amoeba because I had some credit.   For obvious reasons I spent the entire rest of the afternoon as it turned into early evening, looking at album sleeves and letting my mind wander into a beautiful state of exploration.   The connection of the art on the album sleeve and music is an interesting relationship. I imagine hearing the music just by studying the cover, with the fonts of the lettering as well as the illustration/photos.   I purchased The Kinks' "Lola Versus Powerman and the Moneygoaround - Part One" which for an odd reason is very hard to find on vinyl these days.  And when you do find it, the price is usually around $50, but I found this copy for $24.  Not in perfect condition, but it is one of the great Kinks albums, and I'm happy to have it in my possession.  The other two albums I purchased "Booker T. & The M.G.s' "Green Onions" and a best of a package by The Undertones called "All Wrapped Up," which has a really terrible cover.  Still, The Undertones were magnificent pop music makers. 

I took the express bus back to Sunset and Alverado and then got on the 603 to home.   Which gave me more time to read the Worthington memoir.   In the next few days, I have to decide if I should continue writing my journal, or work on a fictional project.  It really depends on how well TOSH does in the reading market.  It seems by the appearance that the book is selling well, and the reviews have been overly positive.  So who knows?

Wednesday, April 17, 2019

A beautiful day, weather-wise in Los Angeles.   I went to work in Downtown this morning, feeling a little light headed and in a very relaxed state.  Whenever I have to wake up early for either a work situation or doctor visit, I usually don't need an alarm clock to get me out of bed. It's generally through a dream where I hear a female whisper in my ear "Tosh."  That usually wakes me up. Before work, I re-posted one of the old pieces I wrote for "365."  Today is Pete Shelley's birthday. If he were alive, he would be 64.  The same age as me.   A remarkable songwriter and the first three Buzzcocks albums are pretty damn perfect.   Also, his solo work is equally amazing.  I have often wondered why he didn't stick with the solo work.  Shelley had an interest in electronic or experimental music which gave his pop songwriting side a certain edge.  The songs were pretty, but there was harshness or layers of textures that combined with the heart-filled lyrics become a powerful formula.   Shelley went on to make music with Buzzcocks, and a classic song here and there would show up on later recordings.  Still, I miss him greatly.

Tuesday, April 16, 2019

This morning I uploaded my latest podcast which is yours truly reading the Marcel Duchamp chapter from my book "Tosh."  Lun*na added my theme song which is something I put together based on her sewing machine noise/music.  It works well in the context of a theme song (of sorts).

Yesterday was a sad day due to the burning of the Norte-Dame Cathedral in Paris.  I always see that building/structure as something from the 11th-century as well as gothic literature.  Even without the poetry of the place, I feel that the building has its own life.  Also as a building, it's location is essential when I'm walking around without a map.  I always recognized the Norte-Dame from a distance, so I know that I'm close to various other locations in that area of Paris.  For instance, Shakespeare and Company.  Without the Norte-Dame, I think I could never find that fantastic bookstore.  It was late yesterday that I realize it is a functioning church, but I never see Norte-Dame in that light.   To me, it's a scary, beautiful building.  The church itself has no meaning beyond its beautiful structure and textures.

It's funny how some people react 24-hours later (the Americans, who are excellent in having an opinion as soon as possible) on the possibility of the Cathedral being re-built, and its ability to raise a great deal of money to do so.  Some Americans are commenting on isn't it better to give money to starving children, or whatever the pet cause is at the moment.  Same as some who complain about Bernie Sanders being a millionaire.   What does that have to do with the issues he brings up.  For some reason, people feel that a Socialist shouldn't have money.   Alternatively, it is hypocritical to have money and yet for fair representation in politics.   For one, I think those who bring this up are just pissed off that Senator Sanders even exist on this world.   With respect to the Church, the Norte-Dame Cathedral is not just a building, but an iconic spot for the last 800 years.  Buildings do come and go, but the Cathedral represents more than just a structure.

After finishing up the Podcast, I worked on my piece for the Please Kill Me website. We have been going back and forth on this particular essay, and I enjoy the communication with their editor.  Everything he has brought up is something to make the piece better.  As a writer, working with an editor is the best relationship.   I love them.

I just got back from a walk through Downtown Los Angeles. Beside Echo Park Lake, I love wandering around Downtown due to its architecture.  I always get the feeling that I need a martini while I'm in Downtown, but I avoid hitting a bar at an early hour.  I drink, but I'm not yet a full alcoholic.  At 64 I'm always looking for an adventure.

Monday, April 15, 2019

I have so many things to do today, work-wise, yet, all I can think about is the gargoyles looking down upon me as I walked on Rue du Cloître Norte Dame.  I have always enjoyed either walking on this street at dawn or just as the evening is getting dark.   I never had an interest in entering the structure, because the outside appearance is so strong, that I feel I would break the spell the building has over me.   Space is a huge issue with me, and some areas cannot be replaced or removed.  I will always remember Norte Dame as the magnificent structure that even my ego had to bow down to, and alas, it is now missing.  Praise Norte Dame. 

Sunday, April 14, 2019

Good things happened this week, but the passing of Gary Stewart put a dark cloud over many people.  Suicide is dumb when young, but when someone my age commits suicide, it becomes a profound gesture that is scary, depressing, and of course, frustrating.  Especially when someone like Gary, who seems to be well-loved by everyone in the record geek community.  For those who don't know, Gary Stewart is very much part of the Rhino Records world.  A visionary fellow, a man of taste, and used his talent to make and distribute fantastic music.  His death disturbs me.  I can sense others feel the same way.  

Today, I went to the Printed Matter Art Book Fair at Geffen MOCA in Little Tokyo.  My well-known secret is that I'm very uncomfortable in large rooms, such as at Geffen MOCA.  I have to keep moving from getting dizzy.  The thing is with museum places; it is very much like a maze, or at the very least a room within a room.  Different size cubicles and I feel like I'm being sucked into a void. There is a fear that I will not make it out.  Alternatively, being trapped.  I never look up to the ceiling, because I feel my knees are buckling, and about to fail me.  

On the other hand, it's a terrific book fair.  I didn't buy anything because I felt everything was too good.  The energy in the rooms was ten maximum, and in actuality, I went twice to the festival. Gagosian Gallery had a room set up for artist Spencer Sweeney.  He was making music directly into a 7-inch single using a record lathe.  That was interesting of course, but also he had his favorite books displayed, including my dad's book "Semina Culture."  It's an important festival, and one has to applaud Printed Matter to organize such a magnificent presentation. 

Yesterday I spent the morning at the Los Angeles Times Book Festival, in which I was on a panel discussion on the subject matter of Los Angeles, which is a vast subject matter for a discussion that can only last for an hour.   The dialog was between yours truly, Lynell George, David Kipen, Lili Anolik, and the moderator was William Deverell.  My only regret is that it couldn't last for three hours or so.  Lili wrote a book on Eve Babitz, and her subject matter is close to my book "Tosh," but I don't mention Eve.  Still, when I did the reading of my book, I focused on the chapter on Marcel Duchamp's retrospective at the Pasadena Museum, which took place in 1963.  Eve is famous (besides her writing) for posing in the nude and playing chess with Duchamp.  She couldn't go to the opening of the exhibition because her boyfriend, Walter Hopps was with his wife at the show.  So, as a revenge of sorts, she posed naked with Marcel.  My experiences at the time were that I did go to the opening and met Duchamp.  Although I did not take my clothes off to play chess or with the bicycle wheel that was displayed so beautifully in the show.   I met Eve numerous times when I was a child and teenager, but those were just fleeting moments. 

Thursday, April 11, 2019

This morning a friend sent me this image of my books being displayed at the Topanga Canyon Library.   When I lived in the canyon from 1966 to 1977, we didn't have a library.  Or, I have no memory of a library.  When I look it up online, I was very happy to see a clean well-lighted structure that is the library.  As anyone who read my book, TOSH one would gather that I had a troubled relationship with Topanga.  To this day, and it has been a few decades now, I cannot bring myself to go into the canyon.  There are memories while writing my memoir, but to actually go back to the physical space or area that is Topanga, is totally unthinkable.  It has nothing to do with the people who live there now, but I feel that there are feelings trapped in the canyon area, and I can pick up on its sadness.  Even going to the San Fernando Valley gives me an odd feeling of depression.  Topanga, I feel is because of its location, but the Valley reminds me of the sad times I had at Parkman Junior High School, and I lived that life already, and I just can't go back.  

I think it is healthy to live in the moment, but alas, I tend to live in my past.  My yesterday is more exciting than the present, and as for tomorrow, who knows?   I spend a great deal of time listening to music and reading.  As of ten minutes ago, I finished reading ""The Possible Life of Christian Boltanski" which is a conversation between Boltanski and Catherine Grenier, regarding his somewhat strange early life, as well as his artworks and installations.   During World War II, his father, who he thought disappeared from home, actually was living under the floorboards.  Boltanski also never left home and very much stayed by his mother, until in his early 30s.  He even played with toy soldiers up to that age!  A remarkable and strange life.  I don't know his art that well, but I find the works intriguing and somewhat sad.   He's married to the fellow French artist Annette Messager, and I see similar aesthetic that they both share in their art. 

Yesterday I got an album in the mail by Egisto Macchi called "Contemporanea."  For the past year, I have been obsessing over the music made by Macchi.  As far as I know, most of his recordings is for music Libraries, meaning that he does music for a company who then rents or lease's soundtrack music to film producers.  I'm not sure if they do this in the United States, but they do so in Europe and in the U.K.  Macchi is similar to Ennio Morricone (they're friends, and they make music together), but like the Maestro, his music is highly melodic as well as experimental.  I have been slowly collecting his library music soundtracks, but it's expensive.   "Contemporanea" is strings or small orchestration with incredible percussion.  He's a genius at mixing natural instrument sounds with electronics or percussion. I love his work.

Early this year I read "Rebel Rebel" by Chris O'Leary which is a deep read into every David Bowie song.  That was volume 1, I'm now reading "Ashes to Ashes: the Songs of David Bowie-1976-2016" volume 2.   A nerdy book perhaps, but O'Leary is an excellent writer, and these two books are a page turner.   For Bowie fans, this may be the book on the genius.   Later tonight I'm going out tonight to hear music. I'll be around. 

Wednesday, April 10, 2019

It's the middle-of-the-week, and I'm feeling the time is slipping between my fingers.  I have been editing my journals of 2014, which is part fiction, and non-fiction, with observations on various aspects of culture.  I also wrote a piece on music publisher/manager Irving Mills, who worked with Duke Ellington among other jazz greats of the early 1930s and so forth.  So it has been a productive week so far, but I have this feeling that I'm missing something urgent, and I just can't place my finger on it.  It's a time like this when I need to sink my body into a tub of hot water.  Alas, I did that already this morning.

Lun*na and I watched this film last night "The Great Silence" (Il Grande Silenzio) and it's a remarkable film on many levels.  For one, the hero dies at the end of the film, and the bad guy wins.  Klaus Kinski plays the bad bounty hunter who is a ruthless murderer.   Jean-Louis Trintignant is the voiceless gunslinger who is on the side of the persecuted outlaws.  The ending of the film depressed me, which caused some disturbing dreams throughout the night.  Also, it was extremely windy, and I was hearing sounds that I never heard before in Los Angeles.  Banging, and just the whistle of the wind itself.   It fits perfectly with the mood of "The Great Silence."  The film is directed by Sergio Corbucci.

The night before we watched Dennis Hopper's "The Last Movie" which is sort of a home movie of Topanga life, but of course, filmed in Peru.  I have seen this film at least twice, but some time ago. So, watching it now, especially after my memoir came out (TOSH: Growing Up In Wallace Berman's World) it is really a visual and moving scrapbook of my life during those years, which is the early 1970s.  It is truly the last movie because I feel everything afterward had changed into another era.  Dennis wasn't the Easy Rider Dennis anymore, and in many ways, "The Last Movie" put a wrench in his career as a Hollywood film director.  Dennis was never an artist filmmaker, like Bruce Conner or even my dad, but more of a mainstream visionary who built a rope bridge between the two cultures. One is old studio Hollywood, and the other was 'new' Hollywood, and after the Last Movie, it went back to just the old world.  There were blimps here and there, but nevertheless, things went back to the old life.

Today, I visit my Uncle and go to a work-related party for the upcoming Printed Matter Art Book Fair, which will take place at MOCA.

Sunday, April 7, 2019

Today is Sunday.  The artwork above is "Sol lustitiae" (Sun of Righteousness) a work of art by Albrecht Düer, sometime in the years 1400-1500.  It is a work regarding Sunday. I woke up in my normal manner by finishing off Francis Ponge's "Nioque of the Early-Spring" a book of poems regarding weather in his neck of the woods in France.  Both naturalistic, but with political overtures as well.  An interesting book to read in a hot bath.  I have a problem with my left shoulder where it's stiff and sore.  Never painful, but just feels awkward when I lean against it in bed, or if I move too quickly after stretching the arm.  It feels like arthritis, but how would I know that?  My Japanese friends tell me it's just the sign of old age, and that eventually it will disappear, but will also come back.  And that is the total truth.  

Throughout the day I have to work on the finishing touches on my essay for "Please Kill Me" website.   I'm doing a series of articles/pieces on the role of the music manager.  There are plenty of books on the subject matter, but I'm trying to find obscure figures in that field that needs more proper attention.   It's a fun writing and research project for me.  Beyond that, I'm doing my mom's laundry.  Her washing machine and dryer is downstairs from her duplex apartment and the stairs are hard to manage while carrying laundry.  I assist her by doing the work at home and then bringing it to her the next day.  It's the least I can do for her!   Beyond that, I really enjoy doing the laundry.  Both mine and hers.  My wife and I do separate laundry duties, but often she would take charge of the situation, and do my mom's laundry as well as folding it up and putting it in a large bag.  A skill I lack (out of many) is properly folding the clothes.  That, like my attempts at hairdressing, is doomed to fail. 

Beyond the writing and laundry issues, I find Sundays to be stressful.  I feel I need to relax, and I often think of going to the cinema, but I can't find a movie I want to watch.   I just did a podcast with a filmmaker Jeff Mizushima Here and we discuss the nature of cinema viewing, and how it is different in each medium.  Personally, I love going to the movies, but the cost of the ticket, plus the low quality of a lot of the mainstream films is a real downer for me.  Also, there are theaters  I like to go to, but they are at a distance, especially since I don't drive.  More likely I will go to Skylight Books and let my brain wander among the bookshelves.  

Friday, April 5, 2019

People who know or think they know me will be surprised to know that I never heard a Charles Mingus album until today.  I went to Rockaway Records on Glendale Blvd, to purchase a British Electric Foundation (BEF) album, and by chance, I came upon Mingus' "Oh Yeah."   I have read that one of David Bowie's favorite albums was "Oh Yeah," and I'm starting a collection of 'Bowie's favorite albums.'   To know an artist you must know what that artist have read or listened to, or both. I played "Oh Yeah" twice in a row and found it to be incredibly charming.   I suspect that it's an unusual Mingus album because he sings on it, and plays the piano.  His main instrument (at least to the general public) is the bass.   I'm aware that he has put out an album called "Mingus Plays Piano," which is him improvising on the keyboard.  That should be an interesting listening experience. 

For the Please Kill Me website please kill me.com I'm writing a series on various music managers and how they influence or even made 'music culture.'   I'm doing all the obvious rock n' roll managers but will dwell into some of the more obscure hustlers and shakers that made a huge contribution to the music (and film) world.  I always had the obsession to see the Wizard at work behind the curtain, so this is something I'm looking forward to.  One of the key inspirations is a book by Johnny Rogan called "Starmakers & Svengalis" The History of British Pop Management."   In this book, he interviews the major managers of various rock n' roll figures and it is endlessly fascinating.  After I complete the rock n' roll managers, I'm thinking of doing a series on book publishers, who are equally interesting, and of course, all become tastemakers of sorts. 

Very rarely do I mention politics in my diary or journal due that I find that subject matter distasteful.  Not always, but since Trump became President, it seems such conversations become aimlessly inane. One thing he succeeds is to make politics into a vulgar spectacle.  It has always been tasteless, even at its best times, but this is true now on a decadent level.  To even comment on anything to do with that man becomes drawn into a level of stupidity that is hard to digest on an empty stomach.   As a practice or even a skill, I refuse to read or listen to any of his speeches, or interviews. When I do read about his administration it has to be a critique or straight journalism.   For one, whenever he opens his mouth a lie comes out, so therefore he's not a good source for information.  The irony, of course, is that he himself is 'fake' media.   He has nothing of value, and he cheapens the world around him.  A horror show takes place on a daily basis, and I just refuse to watch the pornography he produces on a regular basis. 

I'm feeling a touch under the weather.  I hope nothing 'sick' comes my way.  I want to stay busy by working. 

Thursday, April 4, 2019

I woke up early to do an interview with J.C. for 'dublab.com, but as usual, I need at least two hours to get myself ready.   When I open my eyes in the morning, it is usually coming from a dream state that is a borderline nightmare.  Mostly I dream that I either live or sleep with numerous people. There's a bed of course, but I have to share it with numerous people.  I'm usually living in a large home, that is neither Los Angeles, Tokyo or Paris.  A combination of all three.  I often walk around naked with the various people in the kitchen and living room. It's not exactly a party, but people were just living and doing their business.  They never pay any attention to my nakedness, and I'm the only person to notice that this is an odd state of being.  When I get back to bed, it's difficult to find a spot where I can lay down and sleep.  I then wake up and start thinking about my interview for 'dublab.com.

After the interview, I went to my Uncle's house to discuss finances and him and his partner moving in with us shortly.  Right now, we are preparing the studio apartment down below for both of them.  Since my Uncle is a senior citizen, we have to think about attaching rails onto walls and remove a lot of the broken concrete that is in front of the entrance way.  A lot of work.  Still, we have a gentleman who can do the job, and on top of that, he sings loudly when working.  A talented singer and I asked him why he didn't make a record.  He is very religious, and he only sings in the church.  He sings for him, which he points his finger toward the sky, and feels it's not right to commercialize his singing for profit.   

I feel like a traveler.  I walked around the lake this early evening, and it started to rain.  I love taking long walks and exploring the moisture from above hitting me on the face.   The new thing in my life today is that I'm starting to do podcasts. It will be "Tosh Talks," but audio.  I will still do the YouTube shows as well, but I find it satisfying to do just an audio presentation. I can take my pants off while doing the show.  Who will know?

Wednesday, April 3, 2019

I drink wine.  I drink a bottle of wine with my wife, and sometimes afterward, I have a glass of sake while watching TV.   We prefer the wine label Charles Shaw, which can only be purchased at Trader Joe's.   Each bottle is $2.99, or at certain parts of the season, $3.99.   After a day of 'work,' I like to have a glass or a few and let the intoxication take over my brain.  I have posted images with music on Instagram (Here) where I'm sitting on my couch in the living room, watching the lightness leave, and the darkness enters my world.  It's the favorite time of the day, when I think back all the mistakes I made early in the afternoon, with some of the great successes as well. Pain and pleasure are married,  and we have to honor the duality that exists.

My day started at 6:30 A.M.   My morning habit is to read the Guardian and the New York Times online.  Usually, the Guardian comes first. I'm intrigued by the situation in England at the moment with the Brexit issue.  I find it totally confusing as well as idiotic.  Which I gather by reading reports others feel the same way.  It's a complicated issue which shouldn't be that complex.  Still, I understand the emotional need to feel separated from another part of the world, but to actually do something like leaving the European world strikes me as stupid.  I'm not British, but I have purchased a lot of British made books (imported Penguin books) and vinyl issued and made in the U.K.; still, that is far as my expertise goes.   It seems the decision to leave was a snap judgment, which I know is impossible (or is it?)   But Brexit winning by such a small margin strikes me as not fair to those who wanted to stay with the EU.  If it was an 80% vote to leave, then OK, take the poison and make the trip.

When I look at my calendar, I immediately become exhausted.   Nothing too crazy mind you, but I have a podcast interview tomorrow, and then I have to see my Uncle, and then come home to deal with a meeting regarding doing a podcast.  This is something I'm looking forward to, because besides "Tosh Talks" YouTube show I want to do something that is totally aural, and not visual.   We bought all the proper equipment, so hopefully, within a few weeks, we can do a proper broadcast.  It will be called "Tosh Talks" because we will still post it on YouTube, and I'm not changing the format, just another medium or outlet to deal with.

What I would want to do is be a DJ on my "Tosh Talks" podcast, but I suspect that there are legal issues involving playing music in that format.   So, I have to study up on that. I'm going to Tokyo in May, and I want to do more Tosh Talks episodes there, so not sure if a podcast or just a YouTube thing is the best.  So many questions, and so many no answers.

Tuesday, April 2, 2019

I wrote a piece for Please Kill Me website on the legendary and brilliant Scott Walker.  His death was a terrible blow to me, and in many ways, perhaps my last pop music or cultural idol.  When he died last week it was hard for me to put in words how I feel about him and his music.  Gillian and Alan at Please Kill Me offered a platform to do an essay on him, and I did so.  Scott Walker.

Yesterday I spent the entire day at our home, while it was being fixed for various leaky pipes throughout the house.  I'm somewhat like a cat who doesn't like their place disturbed by neighbors or other animals.  I felt trapped in my room as the workers tore away the downstairs ceiling, and then eventually work on both of our bathrooms.  Of course, once they started to do serious work in my bathroom, I immediately needed to use the toilet.   Which got me thinking that perhaps we should get a Japanese computer toilet that can blow, wipe, and practically dress you up again after using the bog. But that will be expensive, and we decided that the American toilet is perfectly fine for our daily habitual use.  

After being stuck all day (and night) yesterday in my office space at home, I decided to spend the afternoon at Artbook at Hauser & Wirth Los Angeles to do my work.  I officially work for them, by writing on books for their Facebook page.  But I also do my own writing as well as studying culture, which means long hours reading posts on Facebook.  It's chilly inside the store and in all the galleries, so I decided to sit in the 'farm' part of the complex to do work.  I'm here with the chickens and herbs and personally, I feel that the chickens here are working harder than me. 

Monday, April 1, 2019

I woke up at 5:55 A.M. because we are expecting two handymen to come in and fix numerous things that are plain wrong in our home.   They came at 8 A.M., but I need at the very least two hours to get myself ready for the outside world.  Three cups of coffee, check Facebook, read e-mail, do some writing, small breakfast (today, avocado on sourdough toast) and then a bath.   By the time they got here, I was fully aware of the world and my actions within its place.  

So far we had to tear part of the downstair's ceiling to locate two leaks that are taking place whenever I take a bath or shower.  Which is daily, so for at least 25 years, there have been leaks which caused permanent damage to the downstairs apartment.  Sometimes reality takes it time before one takes action and repair the horrifying series of incidents that took place in our home.

Financially I expect we will be wiped out.   The good news is that I have a stash of music and books to take over when the sad times arrive.

September 23, 2018 / Tosh's Diary (Paris/Los Angeles)

September 23, 2018

The flight was somewhere between 10 and 11 hours long, and it was boring as hell. The service on the airline Air France was outstanding.  But there were delays at the airport, and the plane took off about an hour late. The Charles DeGaulle airport is enormous of course, but one of the interesting aspects of its architecture is the wooden ceilings.  At LAX Bradley terminal I feel we are in a series of confined spaces, but the vastness of the boarding gate in Paris is immense, and it actually becomes a vanishing point when you look in the front of you.   

As one gets to their seat, you are confronted by a lack of space, but I’m mentally prepared for that. I brought two books with me for the reading.  The main book is Alexander Trocchi’s “Cain’s Book” which I purchased in a bookstore in Paris called the Red Wheelbarrow.   Across from the Lexingburg Gardens.  As far as I know, or at least on this trip, I came upon four English language bookstores. All were good.  Any John Calder publication is a good book.  It’s the British version of Grove Press or the sister or brother of that excellent publishing house.  Calder had an extraordinary vision as a publisher.  I still haven’t finished the book, and every time I feel sleepy, I try to close my eyes to drift off to sleep.

Nevertheless, sleep is impossible for me on a plane.  My sense of travel is being at a location. I don’t actually like the physical aspect of traveling.  I hate luggage.  I really don’t like airports. I loathe going through security.  And I generally don’t enjoy the ride to or from the airport.  I love being at my destination.  But the compromise to get to that direction of the destination is a horror show for me.  I envy fictional characters like James Bond, or Tom Cruise in “Mission Impossible,” where there is a subtitle that says “Berlin,” and therefore you know the main character is there in that city.  I too want to travel in such a manner where a subtitle shows up under my body, and I’m immediately at that location.  You never see Bond buying a plane ticket or waiting at the airport. Nor is he busy making sure he has a European wall plug for his laptop computer.  The one groovy thing I do have is that I rent a portable wi-fi set.  I discovered this when I went to Japan, and in that country, there is not that many ‘hot spots’ for internet use.   Carrying this small pocket-sized wi-fi is a dream.  The battery lasts for six hours, so one should turn it off when not in use. Other then that, it’s perfect. 

We got back home around 10 PM, and I drank a few glasses of wine, checked my e-mail, and tried to feel like I was back home in Los Angeles.  My brain was here, but my body thought it was still walking on Germain-des-Prés. I have a hard time with jet-lag.  Forcing the body and mind to be in one place is a problem for me.  I heard one should just drink water on the jet, but of course, I drank wine.  It’s free on international flights!  Still, I don’t think I can ever beat this feeling of being displaced in time and space.  I got up early and went to work at ARTBOOK (917 E 3RD Street, Los Angeles 90013) to take images for me to write about - and then I walked around Downtown Los Angeles.  It still feels like I was in Paris.  Even though I was walking down Spring Street, I felt the next corner will be rue Oberkampf in the 11th arrondissement.  Which by the way is named after Christophe-Philippe Oberkampf, an 18th-century German-born French industrialist. He invented the first machine for printing wallpaper.  

Lun*na and I went to the Tony Berlant opening at the Kohn Gallery (North Highland Avenue, Los Angeles 90038) and the dinner afterward at Michael and Caroline’s home for the artist.  The show is pretty great.  Tony’s work is basically collaged with images printed on metal, or tin, and put together by steel brads, which gives the art a multi-textural feel.  Some are flat pieces while others are sculptures.  Also, I really like the works that are horizontal when placed on the wall.   They stick out so one can see both sides of the artwork.  So, in a sense, they are sculptural, but flat as well.  Interesting combination. I made a note to myself to come back to the exhibition to spend more time with the art. 

 Tosh Berman

September 20/21, 2018 (Paris)

September 20/21, 2018

We just got back from Paris.  Yesterday we spent the day at Passage des Panoramas (11 Boulevard Montmartre).  This is the arcade that Walter Benjamin wrote about in his major (unfinished) book "Arcade Project."  What's interesting about this arcade is that it opened in 1800, and its the first role model or attempt to make an indoor shopping center in an urban area, in other words, a city.  Paris in 1800 was dirty streets that were not friendly to the retail space, due to the lack of electricity and their various plumbing problems, where citizens would throw their shit and piss on the streets.  The Passage des Panoramas is the oldest covered shopping area in Paris.   Going there was a moving experience for me.

I have great admiration for Walter Benjamin's writing, as well as his interest in culture and city-living.  He openly admired Charles Baudelaire not only for his poetry but also his appreciation for the aesthetic and nature of a city (Paris).   Passage des Panoramas was invented for the sole purpose of shopping, which one comes to think of it, a somewhat original 19th century thought.  But why is it fascinating now?

Well, for one, I'm a consumer.  I can't help it. Without a doubt, it's an addiction of great importance to me, as a person, and writer.  I'm sure those who read my posts have a good indication that I love records and books.  But I also have a deep secretive (even to myself) love for other's childhood culture.  For instance, I'm fascinated with TinTin, yet though I have to admit I'm not French or Belgium (the home of TinTin).  There was a tote bag we saw through the window that seemed to me to be a perfect purchase, but alas, the store was closed.  I find the independent stores in Paris a mystery due to their hours. Some are open from 1 pm to 6 pm, and I get the impression that they don't want to change their lives too much due to the success of the tourist demand.  Still, I'm amazed at the beauty of a culture that's expressed in a retail shop.  People tend to not to look up to the retail place as something as important as a museum.   Often I think it is even more critical, because there are people who open shops that are devoted to the past, and they do so with great passion.  When I go into a good shop, I feel obsession, love, sensuality, and pleasure.  I feel this when I enter the Passage des Panoramas

March 3, 2018 (Tokyo) by Tosh Berman

March 3, 2018, Tokyo

A dear friend of mine claims that jet-lag doesn’t exist.  Therefore I don’t have a reason for falling asleep in front of a bowl of miso soup.  What woke me up was the sound of the bowl breaking, and finding a piece of tofu on my eyebrow.   As I raised my head, I noticed other customers at this elegant restaurant was looking at me in such a manner as looking at a public drunk.  Speaking which, the sake glass remained unharmed to this mishap.   I do what I normally do in such situations by pretending nothing happened.  If one can do this with great conviction, you can get away with murder.  For example, President Trump uses this technique over and over again.   The idiots of the world stand significantly against embarrassment. 

I’m here in Tokyo to specifically write for a publication I work for which is Facebook.   They recently made changes in their format, due to Russian activity on their site.  From now on they will only hire professional writers to do the posts.  Which means they send me to foreign lands, as well as time-to-time write for individuals who use Facebook as a social platform.  There are countless people who are real, but they hire me to handle their posts.  So, I ask them if there are significant changes in their lives, which can mean a death in the family, moving from one location to another, or a new job, stuff like that.   It keeps me busy but the beauty of it with the power of the laptop I can pretty much do my occupation anywhere in the world unless someone pulls the plug out of this Internet thing. 

Tokyo is an exciting city due that they have buildings.  They have lots of buildings. Some even have windows where one can look at other buildings in their space.  As one can gather, some streets lead to these buildings, and some have front entrances.  Sometime today I’m going to enter one of these buildings to see what’s up. 

Meanwhile here are photos of me on Singapore airlines.  No seats were available, so I pretty much had to stand up in their small bathroom for 11 and a half hours.  The coach section is tight space wise, but if you occupy a bathroom, there is leg room and tiny room for a small hand-luggage.   The consistent knocking of the bathroom door gets annoying, but again, and like above, I just pretend nothing is happening.

Not able to speak a word of Japanese, except “ah-so,” which I understand can be even Chinese, but I’m not sure about that, is a stumbling block in business meetings as well as trying to find something to eat.  I have always read about how great their vending machines are, and I found a machine in an arcade. It is one of those claw things, where if you put a few hundred yen in the thingy-twiggy you can with some skill, grab food out of the closed-off section, which my understanding is to protect the food from outside germs.   I managed to get a piece of bread, and apparently, it doesn’t taste like any bread I have eaten before.  Still, when hungry, you have to keep your chin up and just pretend nothing happened.